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by lehrerex
Summary: Draco and Blaise discuss the relative merits of a halfblood lover.


Green light filtered down from the lamps strung around the ceiling of the Slytherin common room. Draco's eyes glittered in the light, highlighting their silver-grey colour. Blaise Zabini sat opposite him on the elegant black leather sofas that dominated the room. The other boy held a glass of dark amber liquor that he probably had very little intention of drinking. Draco sneered; image was _everything_ to Zabinni.

"Your father is going to go absolutely mad," Zabinni predicted.

"Probably. But he has no other heir—what can he do but accept Potter?" Draco retorted.

Zabini lifted an eyebrow. "You're fucking him on a daily basis, about to introduce him to your parents as your boyfriend, and you won't use his first name?"

"I don't use _your_ first name."

"I've never had my cock in your arse."

Well, there was little Draco could say to that. "Very well, they will have to accept _Harry."_ It felt odd to use his lover's given name when they weren't together, naked, making intricate art with their bodies.

"I can never understand what you see in him," Zabini sighed sadly. "He's _Halfblood."_

"All the better," Draco grinned lasciviously. "Halfbloods do all of the weird stuff."

"I don't think that I want to know."

The _weird stuff_ had occurred earlier that day.

There was something about flying, something about the exertion of it and the wind in his hair, that made Draco as stiff as a broomstick. It wasn't uncommon; he remembered back in second year, when his father had only just bought him a place on the team, they would come in from practice and he'd stare, open mouthed and stunned, at the tented fronts of the older boys' pants.

When Gryffindor and Slytherin played each other it was often the only thing they could do to get into the Hufflepuff changing room before they were at each other. Potter—that ridiculous Gryffindor—had made a lot of noise about it being unfair to hijack another team's tent for their own lewd purposes, but before he could ever get too whiney Draco would back him into a tent post and kiss him on his neck, just high enough to leave an embarrassingly visible mark.

"I think—" Harry gasped, "—that the rest of the team knows about—us."

Draco grunted against his skin. "Of course they do."

"Does that not— _ah—_ bother you?"

"What _bothers_ me," Draco snarled, pulling his robes over his head and leaving them in a green and silver pool on the floor, "is that your hand is not on my dick."

Potter—sainted Potter, _clever_ Potter—went one better and dropped to his knees. Merlin, that boy could give head. Draco always found a particular, vivid beauty in the contrast between Potter's ink-black hair and the parchment coloured curls that covered the base of his cock. It was clearly destiny that Harry Potter would spend hours of his life sucking him off.

Potter hummed and sucked, tracing the thick vein on the underside of Draco's cock in an infuriatingly slow movement. He pulled back and looked up, his green eyes nearly black with his lust-blown pupils. "I read about a charm that makes it feel as if you're being fucked at the same time as me sucking you off," he said.

"Try it," Draco said. He wasn't normally one for experimental magic, especially when it concerned his delicates, but Potter hadn't managed to harm him. _Yet._

Harry reached for his wand and traced a lurid shape in the air, then took Draco back into his mouth. Draco's knees buckled. Potter's mouth was hot and hungry and perfect on his cock, and yet he could feel his lover inside him at the same time, long and thick against his prostate. Oh, he _liked_ this spell.

It was only moments of that double stimulation before he was stuttering and shuddering his release. Talented little git that he was, Potter caught every drop of Draco's cum and swallowed like it was sodding pumpkin juice.

The black haired boy sat back on his heels, looking smugly up at Draco. "I knew that would work," he grinned.

"Where are you going?" Draco panted, crawling towards him. Potter's cock stuck up from the black thatch of pubic hair between his splayed legs, red and thick with need. " _My_ turn."

"You don't have to—"

"Shut up, you selfless Gryffindor prat. I want your cock, and I want it now."


End file.
